Secrets 2
by JediMagnet09
Summary: Sequel! The peace our boys have found is threatened by the reappearance of their father with new friends. The new hunters' motives may not be all they seem though. In this deciding battle, sides will be chosen, loyalties tested, and lives lost.
1. Chapter 1

Hi all! After a long few weeks of finals, vacation (whoot!), and now the first week of my second semester, I have finally had time to sit down and write! I decided I would start with the sequel to Secrets. I have cleverly named it: Secrets 2. :)

Hope you all enjoy! Please review!

By the way, thanks for all the kind reviews I have received in the last month or two. I just can't keep up with everything and am unable to respond individually, but please know that I really appreciate them and you all are very kind! :)

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><p>"Dean, trouble."<p>

Who knew two little words could mean so much?

Dean would later consider these two words to be the biggest understatement he had ever heard or would ever hear.

Sam's tone told Dean more than his words did and he felt his heart sink. _Please don't be who I think it is._

"It...It looks like dad and a couple of other hunters Dean."

_Crap._

_..._

The two Winchester brothers had been enjoying a relaxation evening of tv after a smooth-running hunt. They made a good team both while hunting and relaxing and Dean was fairly sure he had never laughed so hard in his life.

Who knew his little brother had such a good sense of humor?

Dean pushed back the regret that bubbled up in him at that thought. _**I** should have known. So many years wasted. If only I had_... Dean stopped himself there. _We've been over this. It's time to let it go. Sam forgives me. _That thought filled Dean's aching heart with warmth. He couldn't completely understand how his brother could forgive him his serious wrongs against him, but the kid had, willingly and completely, and the last six or so months had been the best of their life.

It couldn't last.

Dean wasn't sure what exactly drew Sam to peek out the curtains of their motel room, but he was alerted to trouble even before Sam spoke.

His brother's words had him standing, already looking for weapons, for escapes routes, planning.

"There's no way out, Dean. Unless you can fit through the bathroom window."

The last six months had seen Sam growing like a weed, reaching and finally passing his older brother's height. Thanks to their hard work with Sam's powers and both their training, he was also filling out. Dean suspected the wolf side of Sam helped him bypass some of the long limbed clumsiness that Sam probably _should_ have suffered through. It was a slight sore spot for Dean that he was trying hard to let go all things considered. At least mostly.

"Not all of us are sasquatch's, big foot."

"Dean, is this really the time?"

"Always time for a good joke, Sammy."

"That wasn't a good joke."

"You wound me deeply, little brother."

"I thought I was a sasquatch."

"So you admit it!"

"You are such an idiot."

"I love you too sasquatch."

"Jerk."

"#$%^."

Sam rolled his eyes in Dean's general direction, even while he re-armed himself, sticking a gun in his belt, holding another gun in his hand, knife in his boot, shotgun nearby. It wasn't like he really needed the weapons, but some of Dean's habits stuck on his little brother more than others.

Dean checked out the curtain once more.

His father was closer now, backed by four other hunters, all heavily armed and approaching the room at a cautious pace.

Frowning, trying to keep any fear he may have felt off his face, Dean glanced around the room, looking for _some _way out.

Nothing.

"We have my powers, Dean. I bet my wolf side could come in handy."

"They have guns, Sam. So unless your wolf side is impervious to bullets..."

"I have telekinesis."

"How many bullets can you stop at a time? Five hunters, Sam."

Sam was silent, clearly realizing the problem with his plan. There was no way he could be in his wolf form, use his telekinesis on five or more bullets at a time, _and_ focus on watching Dean's back. Especially if the five hunters were prepared and had some sort of trap set up.

_Crap._

"Dean?"

"Just hang on, Sammy, I'm thinking."

"Think faster."

"Right, no pressure then."

"Five hunters, Dean."

"I know."

"Coming quickly."

"I _know._"

"Dean, they'll kill _both_ of us if they get ahold of us."

"Then we can't let them catch us."

"Right."

"We fight from here. Maybe break part of the window, start firing?"

"And bring the police down on our butts?"

"The Impala can outrun the cops any day."

"Civilians. Neighbors on either side of us."

"Dang it, Sam, we're running out of options here!"

Dean ran a hand through his hair, thinking rapidly, trying to come up with _something_.

He didn't know what to do.

He _didn't know what to do._

"Sam-"

"We surrender."

"..._what?"_

"Just hear me out, Dean. We surrender, then we wait for the opportune moment and escape. Heck, they might just let you go, Dean. They..._dad_ doesn't have anything against you. It's me. So if you keep your mouth shut and don't tick them off, you can always call Bobby and get backup."

"No way. No freakin' way am I leaving you alone with them."

"Then just stay with me and we can _both _ escape. They have to take us somewhere private to kill me anyway, so we have time. They aren't going to do it here in the parking lot."

"Dad knows what you can do."

"I'm stronger, more controlled, and dad doesn't know that."

Dean hesitated, running a hand through his hair, over his face, then through his hair again, glancing at Sam between every movement, clearly thinking, thinking desperately for some other solution.

Dean cursed softly, realizing his little brother was right.

Sam knew he had won.

"Dean. Dean, I need you to promise me something though."

Dean warily waited for his brother's request.

"If you get the chance to escape, please take it. Whether or not I can immediately follow."

Dean was already shaking his head, opening his mouth to tell Sam exactly what he thought of _that_ request, but Sam grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him.

"Dean! If they catch us both, we are _both _dead. We are outnumbered here, man. We need help. Bobby knows to expect us home tomorrow. If we can both stay alive that long, then that's great, but we need Bobby to know there's a problem the second we can let him know. We need help. Please. You do this or we're _both_ dead. It's as simple as that."

Dean was silent for just a second before letting out an emotional breath and nodded.

"Dang it, Sam, but if you get your butt killed...I'm going to kick your butt from here to next week and back again."

_And you better know I'm gonna follow right behind you, Sammy. You go, I won't be far behind. I won't be the only one left. No freakin' way._


	2. Chapter 2

New chapter! Thanks everyone for all the kind reviews! I hope you continue to enjoy my stories, cause I love writing them! :)

Now, I have a request! I have a poll going right now that I really would love for people to participate in. I'm trying to decide what to do after this story is finished and I'm not sure what to try. So, I've narrowed it down to the kinds of fics I want to try and go from there. If you guys would take the poll and choose one of the options of what you would like to see next, that would be FANTASTIC! Thanks so much!

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><p>Sam knew he had to give Dean an opportunity to escape. He didn't like misleading Dean, but under the circumstances, he hoped Dean would forgive him.<p>

He was going to create a diversion. He just wasn't quite sure _what_ yet.

_It has to be soon. Somewhere close to the Impala so Dean can make a fast get away. It also has to be before they get us somewhere away from help. Before they shoot us would also be ideal... _

Sam held back a chuckle at that thought. He didn't want his brother thinking he was losing it in the face of possible death or anything.

_Alright. Alright, what to do...what to do..._

_..._

Dean was the one to go to the window and open it just a tad.

The hunters heard it and were prepared, aiming at the window, waiting for any reason to fire.

"Don't shoot! We..." _You better be right Sam. _"We surrender."

Dean could only imagine the surprise on their father's face at _that_.

...

The hunters were quick. They were inside the room and removing all weapons from the two boys proximity without delay.

It was when they roughly bashed Sam's head into the wall that Dean lost it.

As his brother sank to the floor, dazed and bleeding, Dean struggled against the hold of the two strangers restraining him, screaming at the hunters in fury.

"LEAVE HIM ALONE! HE NEVER DID ANYTHING!" The rage quickly turned to their father. "DAD! Dad, he saved our lives. You know he did. He fought the witch and the demons and he didn't do _anything_ to deserve this!"

John hesitated, not meeting the eyes of his son, instead glancing down at his youngest sprawled on the floor. A strange look crossed his face before he finally raised his eyes to Dean.

"He's supernatural, Dean. You know that. He might not be bad now, but someday...power gets to people, Dean, we've seen it often enough."

Dean gaped at his father in shock. "It's _Sammy_, dad. Loyal, sweet, naive little Sammy. He would feel guilty for swatting at a fly! Have you lost your freakin' mind?"

Wrapped up in the heated conversation and Dean's strugglings, Sam went unwatched for mere seconds.

It was all he needed.

In moments his form was shifting and he was the beautiful white wolf whose form he had grown to love and rely on.

His blood-curdling snarl had everyone's eyes on him immediately.

Dean's eyes widened in shock and horror, suddenly realizing what Sam was doing.

The hunters were frozen, slowly raising weapons.

Sam lunged with lightning speed, bypassing the closest hunters, including his father and going straight for the hunters holding Dean.

The two hunters reacted immediately, releasing his older brother and going for weapons. Sam nudged Dean towards the door, even as he swiped at the hunters' legs with his powerful claws, not close enough to hurt them, just enough to scare them.

Dean hesitated only a moment before remembering his promise to Sam. Fighting tears, Dean lunged for the door, twisting out of the way of a hunter that reached for him.

The Impala was roaring to life and spinning out of the parking lot seconds later.

...

Sam growled at the hunters surrounding him, even as they all pointed rifles down at him.

"Change back, Samuel."

Sam cringed at the sound of his father's harsh voice.

_Dean's free. Dean has time. I've bought us time. Now I just have to stay alive._

Sam concentrated and in seconds he had changed back.

He barely had seconds to glance up at his father before something smashed painfully into the back of his head and he rememberd no more.

...

Unseen by all, John stared at his youngest's motionless form, even as his fellow hunters bent down to drag the boy to their car.

...

Dean brushed the tears out of his eyes even as he picked up his cell and pushed the speed dial button.

"Dean? What's up, boy?"

Bobby's gruff but subtly caring tone almost sent Dean into hysterics.

It was only his knowledge that speed was key, that time was essential, kept him even slightly calm.

"Da-_John _caught up with us. I managed to escape with Sam's help, but...Sam...they have him."

Bobby cursed on the other end of the line. "You still in the same place?"

"Yeah. I'm heading to Carson, the next town over, to regroup and figure out what the heck to do now."

"I'll be there in an hour. Don't do anything stupid, ya idjit, wait for me, hear?"

Dean hung up with only a grunt. He would make no promises he couldn't keep.

Not when Sam's life was on the line.

...

Sam groaned.

_Oh, my head._

Memory came rushing back and his eyes flew open.

He was lying on the dirty ground between two taller buildings, trash cans nearby, the road behind him silent except for the occasional car, none aware of the life being threatened so near them.

Hunters stood around him, watching him.

"On your knees, _Sammy_." One of the hunters mocked.

Sam glared up at them, but managed to get on his knees, wincing at the responding throb in his head at the movement.

The gun suddenly pressed to his forehead pushed the pain completely from his mind.

Sam looked up at his father, infinite pain in his eyes.

"I didn't do anything wrong." Sam said softly. "Why are you doing this? W-we can still be a family, dad. Or...or if I disgust you that much, you don't have to hunt with us, but...but you don't have to do _this_. You don't have to end it like _this._"

The gun clicked as John cocked it.

Sam could see the cold blankness of his face and felt his heart drop. _Dad..._

"Dad."

The gun was pressed even more harshly against his skin, painfully. Anger broke the blank mask on his father's face, anger and fear, and Sam felt tears well up in his eyes and spill over onto his cheeks.

In his anguish, Sam said two words that he hadn't said in a long time.

"Daddy, please."

...

John froze, his son's voice echoing in his ears, but not as the tall, powerful man he had become.

A toddler begging for one more story before bed. _"Daddy, please!"_

A young child asking for help with his math. _"Daddy, please."_

A young boy asking for understanding, begging to know where his dad was going. _"Daddy, please." _

Memory after memory of his youngest, of his baby boy, flashed before his eyes.

Dean holding a baby Sam, trying to figure out how to get the distressed kid to eat, John had had to leave his study of latin and help his boys. Sam's baby grin had made the break worth it.

Sam gazing with wide eyes at the passing ocean at their window, asking what it was, asking what lived in the water, asking how big it was, asking if they could go. John almost said no, but when he saw his child's large beautiful eyes, so like Mary's, he paused. "Sure. Sure, we can go." It had been one of the best days in his memory with his two boys and the first time he had laughed after Mary's death.

More and more overwhelming memories and John knew what just could not do.

He couldn't.

...

Sam paused as something in his father's eyes changed and his waning hope flared up once more.

"Sam."

He closed his eyes, hoping beyond hope that whatever his father said next wasn't going to be a death sentence.

A sudden bang had Sam flinching back violently.

There was no pain though.

Confused, Sam opened his eyes.

His father's gun was on the ground.

John was wavering on his feet.

Blood coated his shirt.

He was staring at Sam, his eyes begging for forgiveness, even as they glazed over from pain and shock.

"DAD! DAD, NO! DAD!"

A knee in his back forced him back down to the ground, even as he tried to get to his fallen father.

"I think we have a change of plans, boys." the hunter who had his knee in the boy's back said.

"This #$%#$ has some other uses, I think."

Sam felt his hands yanked roughly behind his back, something binding them tightly together, pulling a grunt of pain from him even as he screamed desperately for his dad.

He was pulled roughly to his feet and pushed and shoved towards the hunter's waiting car, leaving behind his bleeding, probably dead, father.

Fear filled his aching heart.

_Dad. Oh gosh, Dean. Dean, where are you? I want to go home. _

_Why did this have to happen? _

_Please be okay._

_Please._


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks everyone for the wonderful reviews!

_**Please participate in my poll about what story I should write next!**_

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy this new chapter!

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><p>Sam faded in and out of consciousness for what felt like an eternity, never quite aware of where he was or what was going on.<p>

Pain and shock kept him from thinking clearly, from focusing on anything but his father, who had been very far from perfect but had still been his father.

Sam couldn't help but wonder...were he and Dean orphans?

...

The next time Sam faded back into some semblance of consciousness, he was first aware of something around his right ankle. He could hear slight clinking.

He next realized that he was in a moving car.

"Ah, look whose awake."

Sam forced his eyes to open further, focusing with difficulty on the hunter sitting closest to him.

Two hunters were in the front seat of some sort of large van, one driving. The second two hunters were in seats in the middle of the van that swiveled, both turned to face him. He was in the back of the van, the back seats having been removed, leaving a spacious area for him.

_Enough area for a wolf as well._ The realization hit Sam, dread creeping into his thoughts to add to his already considerable fear.

A chain was welded onto the side of the van, the other end attached to a cuff around his ankle.

"Curious about what's going on? Well, I'll be _glad_ to explain things to you." The hunter closest to him grinned. "You see, your daddy wanted you dead. He wanted it quick and painless."

Sam tried and failed to hide a flinch at that.

The hunter's grin widened. "Now _we_ decided that if you are as talented as he said you were, why waste it? Perhaps you could be put to better use."

The hunter donned a fake serious look. "We don't want you hurtin' anyone though, going evil and serving your demon masters, so we're going to take control and...let's just say we have a very _nice_ and _effective_ training program that should whip you into shape pretty quickly."

Sam internally shivered at that.

_Please hurry Dean. Please. _

...

"Where do we even _start_?" Dean's ragged question had Bobby frowning at him, sad and frustrated himself.

"I'm not sure, Dean. Do you know _anything _about these hunters? Have you seen them before? Where does John know them from? Where would John lead them to take care of Sam?" Bobby asked.

Dean ran a hand over his face, resuming his frantic pacing across the motel room floor.

"I don't know. I don't know! I didn't recognize any of them, I've never heard him mention any names. I have no way to track Sam, I have no way to get information about those hunters. I have _nothing_, Bobby. _Nothing. _They could be k-killing Sam, Sam could be d-" Dean choked off at that, unable to finish.

"Now none of that, boy! Don't give up on your brother yet! He's smart and resourceful and he knows you're coming for him. He'll hold on until we figure something out."

Dean glanced at Bobby, trying to steady himself. "Right. You're right. Sam is smart, he knows I'm coming. Of course he does."

A ringing of a cell phone cut off Dean's self pep talk.

Dean looked at the caller ID and froze. "It's a hospital." he said softly to Bobby, whose eyes widened.

Dean flipped it open. "Hello?"

"Dean Winchester?" An unfamiliar female voice questioned.

"Yeah. I'm Dean."

"We have your father here, John Winchester. I was wondering if you could come down and fill out some paperwork. He's awake and has been asking for you."

Dean's eyes were wide and shocked, his mouth hanging open. "I, uh...what happened?"

"I'm afraid I can't say much over the phone, sir, but if you could come down to the hospital, everything will be explained."

The woman gave him directions to the hospital, then hung up.

Bobby was staring at Dean expectantly. "Well?" he finally demanded when Dean remained silent too long.

"It's...they have dad. They have dad at the hospital."

...

It didn't take the two hunters long to get down to the neighboring town's hospital.

Upon arriving, they were immediately directed to a Doctor Shale, who would fill them in on what happened.

"Dean Winchester and..."

"I'm Bobby Singer. A family friend."

"Okay. Well, Dean, Bobby, John was shot in the back. We had to rush him into emergency surgery to repair some damage, but he's a very lucky man. Any slight movement to the left or right and the bullet would have killed him in minutes. As it is, he's awake and coherent and he's been asking for you, Dean." The doctor looked troubled for a moment. "The police have been by already and asked him a few questions. A passing patrol car was the one that saw him and called it in. Someone had heard the shot and called it in and the car that came to investigate found him. Got him here just in time."

"What room is he in?" Bobby asked. By unspoken agreement, he was the one asking the questions until they got to his father. Dean was trying to keep himself together and wasn't sure he would be able to if he opened his mouth too many times.

"Down this hall, in room 246. You can both go right in."

Thanking the doctor, Bobby led the way down the room.

Dean was the first one through the door though.

John was lying in the bed, pale, but breathing. He was watching them, looking more frightened and more _not like_ the John Winchester they knew than Dean or Bobby had either seen him.

"Dean-"

"Where is he?" Dean interrupted, his voice sharp and full of repressed anger.

John looked down at the bed. "They took him."

"The hunters?"

"Yeah. I'm not sure exactly what happened. I...I couldn't do it. I had decided to get rid of them, to help Sam make it to safety, but before I could even turn around, one of them shot me."

"Why would they take him?"

"I think the guys took Sam to use him for hunting."

Dean swore, turning his back to his traitorous father for a moment as he ran a hand over his face, trying to keep it together.

"Names." was all he managed to grind out.

"Eric Dashing, Joe Wood, Perry Long, and Simon Price. I'm not even sure those are their real names, though. I'm sure that Perry didn't give me his real name. It's probably safe to assume all of them are fake."

"Where would they go?"

John hesitated, wincing. "I don't know."

Dean's face darkened. "Fine."

He turned towards the door. "Bobby, stay with here with _him,_ would you? I want to know where he is."

Dean only took a step forward, when John spoke.

"Dean, I'm sorry."

Dean froze.

"You're _sorry?_" Dean hissed, swinging around to face his father. He took two steps forward, fisting his hands around the board at the foot of John's bed. It was the only way he could keep from strangling his father.

"Did you hold the gun to his head, _dad_?" Dean snarled, his voice low but still carrying all of his rage and hurt and pure fury. "Did you watch as they knocked him around, listen as they plotted to kill him? Your baby boy? Did you press that gun to his head, tighten your finger on that trigger, and watch the fear in his eyes grow? Did you see his pain, dad? Did you stick the same gun you've used on _monsters_, on horrible creatures that kill for pleasure and torture for the heck of it, that cause misery and suffering to all they come across...did you stick that same gun in the face of your youngest child, your baby boy, my little brother, and even _think_ of pulling the trigger? Have you thought of the _damage_ you've done to him?"

"If you're so _sorry," _Dean spit the word out like a curse. "Where were you when Sam had to learn how to use his powers, even through pain and exhaustion? Where were you when Sam screamed every night from horrific nightmares, often of _you_ and all the _horrible _things you could do to him, of your _betrayal_? Where were you when Sam _cried_ because he knew that no matter how much he'd given to that battle with the witch, no matter how hard he'd fought to be the good son and good _man_ you pretended to expect, you were never going to be happy with him and, in fact, you wanted to _kill _him? For that matter, where were you for Sam's first word? His first step? His first kiss? The first time he came home crying and bleeding because of bullies? The first time he went hungry because his dad was away longer than he was supposed to be? When have you _ever_ been there for him? You've been killing him slowly for years, it's only just now that you've decided to use a physical, real weapon."

The hospital room was utterly silent except for the machines John was hooked up to, both older men staring at the enraged and frightened big brother.

"Save your 'sorry' for someone who will believe it."

Dean spun around and headed for the hospital room door, pausing when Bobby called out.

"Where you going, Dean?"

Dean didn't turn around to look at them, his whole body shaking with rage.

"I'm going to go save Sammy."

...

Silence reigned in the hospital room for a few minutes, neither able to break the spell Dean's words seemed to have caused.

Finally, Bobby sighed, throwing John a hard, yet slightly pitying look.

"You're a fool, John Winchester. A darn fool."


	4. Chapter 4

Hey all! I hope you're enjoying the story so far! Thanks for all the reviews! _PLEASE_ participate in my poll! I would love to know what you guys want to see from me next! Thanks so much!

Just a warning: there is violence in this chapter. Not anything _too_ graphic, but enough to warn you about it. Mostly the second half of the chapter.

I know parts of this probably aren't incredibly realistic, you'll have to forgive me. :)

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><p>Dean waited until dark.<p>

Invisible in his full black garb, mask included, he went unseen by the security guard.

He was lucky it was a small police station or this would have been much harder.

Using the tree beside the station, Dean managed to climb onto the roof, where he easily lowered himself into the ventilation.

_Way too freakin' easy. _

The older brother made his way to the room that he hoped held the key to his brother's freedom and safe return, dropping down easily.

_Where to look now?_

...

In all, Dean found out more than he thought he would.

The police had collected all the information they could from the area, surprisingly well for such a small town that experienced so little action, Dean thought, and had wasted no time in processing said information.

One of the hunters had left fingerprints and it turned out, he had a huge record. The hunter, Christopher Broshman, was not one Dean had ever heard of or come across, but he would bet that Bobby had, or knew someone who had.

In one way or another, Bobby knew everybody.

Whipping out his phone, Dean quickly called Bobby, pacing back and forth near the Impala, impatient, trying to keep focused when all he wanted to do was break down and cry.

He felt the absence of his baby brother like a physical pain.

"Dean?"

"Hey Bobby. I know one of the hunter's names. You ever heard of a Christopher Broshman?"

There was silence for a second, then Bobby repeating the question assumedly to John.

"I haven't but I'll call a couple of people to see what information I can find."

"Alright, thanks."

"Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah."

"Don't do anything stupid, idjit. I want both of you back in one piece."

Dean hesitated. He wouldn't promise, but this was Bobby, a surrogate father, who had given them a home when they had none. He still gave them a home and Dean kinda imagined they would live there for many years to come. He had to give the man something.

"I'll do my best."

"Good luck."

Dean hung up, tossing his phone onto the passenger seat of the Impala, climbing in.

_Alright. Now I guess we wait._

...

_I can do this. I can do this. I __**can**__do this. Dean is relying on me to hang in there. I can do this. I'm a Winchester. I'm not going to panic. I __**can**__ do this. _

Sam was frightened. The hunters hadn't paid him much mind yet, but they were pulling in somewhere, slowing down. Sam couldn't see where, the windows not being positioned in a decent view for him to see through.

His imagination was conjuring up plenty enough just from what little the hunters had said.

_They want to use me to hunt. _

That alone frightened Sam.

What was worse, though, was the little they had said about some sort of "effective training program". That was what had Sam panicking.

_How will Dean find me? _

_He will find me._

_But how?_

_I can't give up on him already!_

_I'm scared. I want Dean. I want to go home._

_Act like a Winchester, dang it! You're not a baby, you __**can**__ do this!_

_I __**can't! **_

And suddenly, Dean's voice seemed to echo in Sam's ear, encouraging and soothing, fierce and intense. His brother rarely did things in halves and this conversation was just another proof of this.

Sam remembered this like it was yesterday. Afraid and hurting because of their dad's betrayal, Sam had admitted that he was afraid, but that he was so _tired_ of being afraid.

Dean's response had been one that Sam would never forget.

_"Everyone fears the unknown, Sammy, and the future is the biggest unknown there is." _

_Sam's wide, tearful eyes met Dean's. "Then what do I do?"_

_Dean laid his hands on Sam's shoulders, looking his baby brother in the eyes. "The key, Sammy, is who you have in your life. There is no need to truly fear the future when you are surrounded by those who love you, who will have your back, and will face that unknown future with you." Dean tightened his hold on Sam's shoulders. "I **love you**, Sammy." he said fiercely. "You hear me? I love you. **I** have your back. And I **will** face the future with you. So you don't need to be afraid because I will **always** be by your side. Dad made his choice and I made mine. I choose **you**." _

_"The angel was right about one thing, Sammy. You __**will**__ never be alone."_

Sam felt his wavering hope, his failing courage, suddenly respark and brighten to the roaring flame they usually were.

_Dean __**will**__ be here. And I __**will**__ hold on. Because I trust him and...and because he trusts me. He trusts me to be strong enough. And I won't leave him alone either._

"Alright, _Sammy_, let's get started shall we?"

Sam looked up at his captor's and...he felt stubborn determination and hope fill him.

_Bring it on._

...

Christopher Broshman stepped out of the van, looking around at the abandoned farm they had managed to track down.

The barn was where they had set up and Chris was proud of it. They had done a good job, if he did say so himself.

_Let the games begin. _

"Get him out." Chris casually ordered two of his fellow hunters and friends.

They nodded, used to Chris' orders. He ruled and went unquestioned in their little group. Using Sam had been his idea. Training the boy, taking him here, it had all been his idea.

Chris knew what he was doing.

Allowing himself a little grin, Chris prepared for what he imagined would be a very long night, at least for some of them.

...

Sam was all too aware of the gun one of the hunters was holding on him, unwavering and far enough away that Sam couldn't reach him. The hunter was steady, staying clear of his approaching friends, but with a nice view of Sam's vulnerable body.

Sam knew better than to move.

Another of the hunters released his ankle from its binding, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and dragging him out of the van, letting him fall to the ground with a grunt of pain.

"Go." the third hunter kicked at him roughly.

Sam started to stand, but he was pushed roughly back to the ground with a firm foot to the back.

"I didn't say stand. I said _go."_

Sam couldn't help the glare up at them. "You want me to _crawl?" _

He received a sharp kick to the face for that, hitting the ground, covering his bleeding nose with both hands, letting out a small moan of unexpected pain.

"Animals don't talk. Now, _move._"

Not wanting another kick to the face, Sam began the humiliating journey to the barn. Sure he had walked on all fours as a wolf, but this was different. He was _human_. The wolf was a convenient form, it wasn't _him_.

_Dean will come. Dean is coming. This won't be for long. Dean will kick their sorry butts for this. He'll save me. _

...

Chris had to force the rising grin from his face when he saw Sam crawl into the barn, his three friends following close behind.

Sam's face was red with embarrassment, but his eyes were still hard and Chris knew that while this was a good start, it was only barely a start.

It would take much more than a short crawl to break a Winchester.

Stepping over to one of the prepared tables, full of what Chris would need to create his new weapon, he listened as Sam's ankle was chained to a sturdy post in the middle of the barn, in a cleared portion of it.

Picking up the sharp bullhook, Chris very gently carressed the edge, a sadistic edge in his eyes that could have frightened even the bravest soldier.

_Alright. Time for step one. Let's see what you're made of, Samuel Winchester._

_..._

The order came sharply. "Change to a wolf."

Sam glared up at his captor. "No."

The hunter sighed, shaking his head. "No, no, you see, that's just not going to cut it. Lesson one, Sam. You always obey."

Sam rolled his eyes.

Immediately, the hunter, Chris, lashed out with the bullhook he held in his hand, ripping across Sam's arm, instantly drawing blood.

Sam yelped, crumpling, clutching his arm.

"Lesson two. Disrespect is not allowed."

Sam breathed in a deep breath, trying to force himself to remember what he had learned about dealing with pain. _Deep breath. In, out. In, out. Slow. Control is key. I can do this._

"Change." the order came again.

"Bite me." _Crap. I must be channeling Dean today._

Chris sighed, shaking his head. "You aren't a very fast learner, are you? Every lesson broken will be punished, Sam, and you just broke three."

Chris walked over to the table, setting the bullhook down. He considered his options for a moment, before picking up a long rod. He pressed the button and it sparked.

Turning back to Sam, Chris pressed the end of the rod to Sam's shoulder, despite Sam's attempts to move away.

He pressed the button and Sam yelped again, jerking back.

"Lesson one, you will obey."

He pressed it again and Sam failed to bite back another cry of pain.

"Lesson two, disrespect is not allowed."

A third press of the button had Sam jerking convulsively, another cry of pain sharp and clear.

"Lesson three, you will not talk."

Sam lay on the ground, panting and gasping, chest heaving.

The glint in his attacker's eyes, one of triumph and arrogance, set Sam's blood aflame with rage.

"Lesson four. Mess with Dean's little brother, you get shot or worse."

Sam regretted the words the instant he saw the anger in the hunter's face.

Chris jammed the rod into Sam's side and held the button down.

Sam jerked and convulsed, crying out in agony.

"Lesson two and three, Samuel. You will not be disrespectful and you will not talk."

"Go rot in #$%." Sam gasped. _I won't give in. This stupid #$^%^ won't win._

The rod was pressed against his side once more.

"You will not be disrespectful and you will not talk, Samuel. Are you done?"

Sam gasped as he finally pulled the rod away, curling up on himself in pain.

"I hope you die slowly and painfully, #$%^."

Winchesters were nothing, if not stubborn.

"You will _not _be disrespectful and you will _not _talk!"

Sparks.

Agony.

Cries.

Gasps.

"Go. To. #$%."

"You will _not_ be disrespectful and you will _not_ talk!"

Sparks.

Pain.

Cries.

Whimpers.

Sam muttered a few choice words that his brother probably would have smacked him upside the head for saying...that or grinned and told him he was awesome.

"You will _not _be disrespectful and you will _not_ talk!"

Sparks.

Pain.

Sparks.

Agony.

Screams.

Darkness.

...

"Time to wake up, Samuel. We aren't done yet."

Sam groaned softly, his eyes fluttering open as he returned to wakefulness.

He immediately wished he hadn't.

The hunter was standing over him, the rod in his hand, held so Sam could see it and _remember_.

"Let's try this again, shall we? Change to your wolf form."

Sam hesitated and the hunter took a step forward, moving the rod towards him.

Sam felt the power rush through him and there was a _shift_ in the air.

In his place, a white wolf stood, avoiding it's front right paw, but standing taller and stronger than it's human counterpart could, able to push the pain back to ignore.

It was a survival instinct that Sam had taken advantage of more than once in the last few months.

The hunter grinned darkly. "Very good."

_Okay. We're getting somewhere. _


	5. Chapter 5

Here's the next chapter! I hope you're all enjoying the story so far! Please review and PLEASE participate in my poll! I really want to know what you guys want to see next from me! :)

Another warning about violence, probably worse than the last chapter...

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><p>It was like his early teenage days all over again.<p>

His powers burst at the sharp hold he had on them, trying so hard to be helpful, to escape, chaffing at his unwillingness to fight the hunters.

_I have to buy Dean time. If I escape, they could go for him and I have to be __**sure**__ that Dean has enough time to get to Bobby's to get help. He's one person and while he's amazing, he's human. _

Sam didn't really think that reminding himself of this would help his powers still, but maybe it would give him the will to hold them back.

A too honest voice in the back of his mind spoke up, telling him a truth he didn't want to acknowledge. _Admit it, Sam. Part of it is because you're afraid of what they would do if you failed to actually escape. What if your powers are useless on them? Nothing you do seems to ease your pain, nothing you do is right. Maybe you found your weakness._

_They are too strong for you._

Sam glanced up at the conferring hunters, standing nearby, talking in soft whispers so he couldn't hear them.

_No. I am strong enough to do this. They aren't too strong for me. I'm just buying time._

But part of him doubted.

...

Chris glanced over at the youngest Winchester, gauging what he could see from his body language.

The wolf was distressed, that was sure, but he wasn't broken.

That would come.

It would come.

...

"Let's review, shall we?" the hunter walked towards him.

Sam growled, baring his teeth at the man.

The hunter shook his head.

"The lessons just don't stick with you, do they Samuel? I suppose I'll just have to remind you."

He lunged forward unexpectedly with the long rod he had been holding at his side, pressing it against the wolf's throat, pressing down hard on the button.

The wolf yelped.

"Lesson one, you shall obey."

The other three hunters moved around their leader, surrounding the white wolf, fur matted with blood, hackles raised, teeth bared against the pain.

They all held an electric prod.

"Lesson two, you will not be disrespectful."

Another hunter moved forward, the rod pressed quickly and fiercely to the wolf's skin.

Sam gave a pained howl, jerking away.

"Lesson three, you will not talk. Not like that's much of a problem at the moment."

Sam growled at his captors.

_I will stay strong. I will prove to Dean that I deserve his trust. I'll prove Dad wrong. I'm not alone._

Two hunters pressed their rods against the wolf's skin.

Sam yelped, then immediately switched to a growl.

_I will stay strong. I deserve Dean's trust. Dad is wrong. I'm not alone._

Three rods and bright sparks, Sam's cries distorted as he jerked away with pain.

_Stay strong. Have to stay strong. Dean's trust...not alone. _

Sam was having a harder time concentrating.

Sam gathered his energy, letting out a deep guttural growl that _had_ actually scared creatures three or four times his size in the past.

_Strong...Dean...trust...not alone..._

The hunters just pressed all four rods against his skin.

Sam jerked and writhed, howling and yelping.

There were some things even a wolf couldn't endure, things that crossed even the powerful wolf's pain threshold.

Sam lay on his side, gasping and drenched with blood and sweat.

_...Dean..._

_..._

Sam gradually lost track of how many hours passed.

It felt like an eternity.

He began to measure time by how many times the four men switched out, taking turns resting while the others tortured him, repeating words that Sam had quickly grown to hate.

_You will obey. _

After awhile, they had grown tired of the prod, but before he could be relieved, they had pulled out whips.

_You will obey. _

A sharp snap, a yelp.

_You will obey. _

A howl, blood.

_You will obey._

So much blood.

Hours and hours of pain and agony had Sam flinching at even the sight of a hunter, at every step they took in his direction.

_Dean. _

It was a cry, a plea, for help that Sam couldn't voice, wouldn't voice, but desperately sent out to whoever was listening, praying that his brother would be able to find him soon.

He wasn't sure how much longer he could last.

Some part of him was dying, withering, and Sam was afraid it would soon die permanently and absolutely.

_Hurry, Dean._

...

Chris observed from the shadows as one of his buddies lashed out with the whip.

They were going on 24 hours of pure torture, of no sleep, for their captive.

Sam flinched with every snap, whimpered almost constantly.

And the experienced hunter knew.

_He's broken. _

_It's time. _

"That's enough. Load him up."

...

Dean startled awake as his phone went off nearby.

He didn't remember falling asleep, but he was only a little surprised to see that he had curled up with Sam's abandoned hoodie while he slept.

_Sammy. _

Then Dean remember his phone and quickly lunged for it, flipping it open the second he saw it was Bobby.

"What do you have?"

Bobby didn't reprimand him for the abrupt, sharp greeting. He was frankly surprised he was getting that much from the frantic older brother.

"I got a call from Tony Stone, a good friend of mine. We go pretty far back and he's reliable. He says that he knows Broshman."

"And? What else can he tell us?"

"He's giving him a call right now and is going to see how much information he can get. Maybe even tell us where exactly he is."

Dean deflated, collapsing back to the seat. "Crap."

"It's closer. We're getting closer."

"It's been over 24 hours, Bobby. Who knows wha-" Dean's voice cracked and he had to stop, fighting tears, forcing his voice to remain as even as it could. "Who knows what they're doing to him."

"For now, all that matters is that they aren't going to kill him. We can figure everything else out later."

Dean knew Bobby didn't really believe that. There were some things worse than death and both hunters knew it.

Denial was a powerful tool in a hunter's arsenal.

"Okay. Okay, call me when you hear from him."

Dean hung up on his father figure, friend, and mentor, threw the phone down, and buried his face in Sam's hoodie, a sob tearing from him.

_Sammy. _

...

Sam was dragged to the van, barely able to stay conscious, drifting. He dimly heard the lead hunter's voice murmur to him, too brightly for the horrific events of the last eternity, "Get some sleep, Sammy-boy, we're going _hunting!_"

Sam only fought the sleep for a second, just long enough to feel the chain come around his ankle, before he drifted off.

...

"Wake up!"

Sam jolted awake with a whimper as he was hit with something hard.

"We're here."

Sam felt a little better after his sleep, but not by much and he definitely didn't want to be hunting right now.

He didn't have much choice, however.

He climbed out of the van, cowering as one of the hunters took a step towards him. However, instead of hitting him, the hunter knelt beside him and stuck something that smelled _horrible_ under his nose.

"You smell that? That's a chupacabra. I want you to track it down and kill it. If you don't come back within four hours, we are going to go track your brother down and kill him. Is that clear? I'll fire off a shot into the air every hour, so you know how much time you have."

Sam nodded, which felt just strange in a wolf form, and the hunter backed off.

"Go!"

Sam ran.

...

Every instinct he had told him to run. The wolf in him urged him to flee from the pain, the suffering he had been put through.

To return to it was madness.

To run meant Dean's death.

He knew which he chose.

He put his nose to the ground and followed the smell of the chupacabra. Part of the cloth had smelled of blood and Sam could only imagine what poor victim the hunters had taken advantage of to get the scent of the creature.

Forcing that from his mind, pushing back his pain and exhaustion, pushing his fear, _everything_, back, Sam sunk deep into hunting mode, focusing as only the wolf could.

...

Two shots had been fired into the air when Sam found it.

He crept up silently behind the large creature, scanning it quickly.

It's large size was brought to his attention first. It was at least three or four times his size, muscles bulging beneath skin barely hidden by a very light coating of black and brown fur. It was shaped similiar to a wolf or some sort of dog, legs built well, a long snout protruding from it's face, huge teeth bared at it's target: a wild pig. Long claws extended from powerful paws, sharp eyes locked onto the pig, unwavering. Then it's nose twitched and Sam stiffened.

It smelt him.

_Crap. _

Before his fear could overwhelm him, Sam called on the wolf side of him, the instinctively masterful warrior buried in the mind of the human turned wolf.

He lunged forward, automatically aiming for it's back, hoping he could get to its throat before it got to any part of him.

It was faster than he'd thought.

He had sunk his claws into its back, keeping a firm hold on it, even as it screeched in fury.

A flash of pure white teeth and he was going for it's neck, but not before it had reached around with unnaturally far reaching arms and ripped four jagged cuts in his side.

Sam let out a howl of pure agony, then uttered a fierce guttural growl of a desperate animal trying to make a point and bit down on its neck and held.

It struggled and bucked, trying to get him off. It tried to reach up again, but Sam managed to bat its attempts away with his telekinesis, despite the drain it put on his exhausted body and mind.

As more and more blood was lost, as Sam's teeth dug deeper and deeper, the struggles of the creature slowed until it finally collapsed and breathed out its final breath.

The pure white wolf, now fur stained red with blood, stepped away from its kill and began to limp back the way it had come.

At this point, he didn't care about salting and burning the creature. He had killed it. It was time to go back to the hunters before too much time passed.

Each limp brought unimaginable pain to the young Winchester, a pitiful whine drawn from him with every step he took.

_Dean. Dean please._

_I want to go home._

_I want Dean._

_I don't want to do this!_

_I want Dean!_

It was then that Sam discovered that wolves couldn't cry.

...

"I've got something, Dean!"

Bobby's excited cry had adrenaline, hope, and determination flaring through Dean. It had been hours, Dean wasn't sure how many, since Bobby's last call. It felt like centuries, his imagination and memory coming up with so many horrific things that Sam could be suffering.

At last, he could do something.

"What?"

"I got a call from Tony. He said he got ahold of his Broshman. Broshman brushed him off, wouldn't give him too much information, but he said it sounded like they were in a car. From their conversation, Tony thinks their only the next state over in a city called Jackson."

Dean turned the car on, preparing to drive, keeping his phone pressed to his ear while he did so.

"He said his friend recently bought a van, one of the really big ones, typically used as a delivery van of some sort."

Dean froze for an instant. "Big enough to hold a wolf in the back."

Bobby was silent on his end of the line, but it spoke more than words ever could.

"Alright. Alright, I'll tell you when I get there."

"Be careful, Dean. You won't be any good to your brother dead."

"No promises, Bobby."

Bobby sighed. "I didn't expect one."

"I'm _going_ to get Sam back."

"I know. Just remember that he's just as lost without you as you are without him."

Dean paused at that, closing his eyes as Sam's face flashed across his memory, eyes wide and pleading, fearful and full of tears, then relief as Dean pulled him into his arms.

"I know." Another pause. "I'll be careful."

Hanging up, Dean tossed his phone on the seat beside him and slammed down on the gas pedal, the Impala leaping forward almost immediately.

Seemed his baby was as anxious to get Sam back as he was.

_Hold on, Sammy. I'm coming. _


	6. Chapter 6

Hey all! I hope you have enjoyed the story so far! One or two more chapters to go, I think! If you want to have a choice in what I write next, please participate in my poll so I know what people want! So far, it seems Daddy!Sam is winning, and I have one for cursed at Stanford!Sam, one for a continuation of the Visions series, and one for Mary lives and Sam is the neglected middle child. If you want to have a say, VOTE! (hee hee, I sound like one of those people that stand in front of walmart around election time...that's kinda sad...) :)

Thanks for all the reviews!

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><p>Sam wasn't sure where they were going.<p>

He didn't _think_ they were heading back to the torture chamber, but he couldn't be sure.

His captors had surprised him by carrying for his wounds, though not gently or kindly. He supposed they didn't want their _property _damaged, and didn't that just rub his fur the wrong way?

Sam was curled up in the back of the van, whimpering softly with every pothole they hit, trying desperately to get some more sleep. He was exhausted, both from lack of sleep and from the rough exertion of the hunt, but pain kept him awake.

Dimly, he tuned into the hunters conversation up front.

"Chris, we headed to Jackson?"

"Yeah. We'll be there in about an hour."

"You think the freak back there is going to be up to this?"

"He better be."

"You meeting up with Tony soon?"

"Yeah, it's been awhile, we're gonna meet for a beer in a few days."

"That's why he called."

Chris gave an affirming grunt.

"I'm gonna take a nap. Wake me when we get there."

Chris grunted again.

_Up to what? They aren't going to send me on another hunt already, are they? _

Sam felt dread fill him and he buried his snout in his forearms, closing his eyes, whimpering.

_I don't think I'm going to survive long enough for Dean to find me. _

A nasty voice, frighteningly similar to Chris', whispered in his mind.

_The hunters won't let you die. You're too valuable to them. Why do you think they took the time to train you? No, you'll survive, but there won't be any of __**you**__ left. You'll just be their pet._

_Dean won't find you._

_No, Dean has to find me._

_He can't find you. And even if he does, the hunters will just kill him anyway._

_No! _

_You might as well just give up, Sam. Oh wait. You already have._

Sam didn't have an argument to that.

_I'm sorry, Dean._

...

Sam followed the hunters into the woods, unsure of where they were going or what they were doing here.

He felt like crap, each step painful, each breath agonizing, but he pushed forward anyway, afraid of what would happen if he didn't.

Finally, the hunters stopped in a wide clearing, declared it suitable and dropped their backpacks there. One immediately began to dig a pit, for fire if Sam was going to guess.

Chris turned to him and Sam couldn't help the flinch.

The hunter grinned. "Alright. In these woods somewhere is a Wendigo. We want you to lure it here. I don't care how, just do it. We're building a fire now and we're going to kill it. You get it here, you understand?" He aimed a kick at the wolf, that Sam stumbled back to avoid.

"Get going. We'll have the fire built and ready by the time you get it here."

Sam hurried off, not quite running.

He knew he would have to conserve his energy.

He hurt so bad.

As guilty as it made him feel, some part of Sam hoped he _wouldn't_ survive this hunt.

Some things were worse than death and Sam considered slavery one of them.

But his fear was powerful and he couldn't escape.

Sam despised himself for his own weakness, hated to consider what Dean would think of him if, when, he found out that Sam had given up.

_Focus, Sam. _

Sam forced himself back to the present and began to try to sniff out the Wendigo.

...

Dean reached Jackson in record time. He was sure he had never gone so fast in his life and he hoped he hadn't destroyed the engine, but he knew that if he did, he would get over it.

He would have scrapped the car completely if it meant saving Sam.

No matter what some may say, Dean had his priorities straight.

_Just hold on, Sammy._

Dean quickly made a mental list of areas to check in the town for the hunters who had taken Sam, starting with motels, then gas stations.

He was on his last motel, it was a fairly small town after all, when Bobby called.

"Dean, I researched the area and I think they're hunting."

"Hunting what?" Dean growled.

"A wendigo, if I was going to guess."

Dean swore.

"You think they want to use Sam to kill it or something?"

"Well, you need fire to kill a Wendigo, but they could use Sam as bait, especially if he's injured. That blood is going to attract the Wendigo quickly, wolf or human."

Dean scowled, fury building in his chest.

"Alright. Thanks Bobby. I'll get back to you when I have him."

Dean hung up, not waiting for Bobby's reply.

_I'm coming, Sam._

Dean turned the Impala around and slammed down on the gas, speeding towards the woods.

_If there's a hair on his furry head out of place, I'm going to kill them all, I swear._

...

Much to Sam's dismay, the wendigo found him first.

He heard the slight wooshing sound and froze, listening closely, ears perked up. It took him only a second to realize he was in trouble, because the wendigo knew he was there.

That's when Sam realized. _Blood. Oh crap. _

He wondered if his blood smelled animal like or human like to the wendigo.

He could feel that the wrapping around his middle was soaked with blood, all the moving and even the trip in the van causing the bleeding to start again. The hunters hadn't stitched him up, they had just slowed the bleeding and bandaged him.

Heaven knows he was covered in enough blood now to attract the wendigo's attention.

A rush of adrenaline flooded Sam's system as he realized he was being hunted.

Spinning around, Sam took off running back towards the hunters, the _fire_. He could hear the wendigo behind him, keeping up easily.

Sam pushed himself harder, the image of blood, of screams, of long claws that would slice him to pieces flashing across his mind and urging him on, giving him bursts of speed.

_Go. Go, go go! _

Finally, Sam reached the clearing, skidding to a halt and turning to face the wendigo that stood there, immensely tall, uncaring of the hunters standing at the back of the clearing. Only interested in the scent of blood that permeated around Sam.

_Oh gosh. Oh gosh. _

Sam couldn't move. His sides were heaving as he struggled to catch his breath, even adrenaline unable to keep him going for long.

He wasn't even going to have enough energy to keep in the wolf form for much longer. If he had to die, he wanted to die a human.

Besides, human's had fingers, maybe he could grab one of the sticks that was on fire and have some sort of weapon.

The wendigo took a step forward, almost lazily, sensing its preys weakness and uninterested in doing the job quickly. The wendigo didn't just hunt for instinct, for food. A part of its mind enjoyed the fear, the pain it caused.

And, _oh, _what fear it sensed in the creature before him, not human but not truly animal either.

...

Dean was out of the Impala in seconds when he saw the van.

It was hidden, but not enough to avoid the eyes of another hunter, trained to notice what didn't want to be noticed.

Holding his gun, a flamethrower tucked in a pack on his back, Dean took off running, following the prints of the hunters and one wolf that he found around the van.

_I'm coming, Sammy. I'm coming. Hold on. _

...

Dean froze as he almost broke through the clearing, horrified at the sight before him.

Sam, as a wolf, was standing at the feet of a wendigo, which was approaching him, clearly ready for a meal.

Sam was covered in blood and swayed slightly, clearly at the end of his rope.

The hunters were standing at the back of the clearing, waiting for the wendigo to come just a little closer. The sight of them sent fire raging through Dean's veins, enraged at them for everything they had put his small family through.

A small whimper from Sam had Dean focusing again quickly, trying to think quickly.

He couldn't take down the wendigo first. It was going for Sam and if he appeared suddenly, he was sure the hunters would just shoot him. Which means the hunters needed to be distracted.

Not pausing to think about what he was doing, Dean took out his gun, aimed and fired. One of the hunters gave a shout of surprised pain, his thigh already bleeding profusely.

The wendigo looked up from its prey, smelling the blood of a human, its natural prey.

It was moving a second later, the yells of the hunters filling the clearing.

Knowing their enemies were both distracted well enough for now, Dean darted forward. Sam had fallen to the ground and, even as Dean watched, the wolf turned into his baby brother, covered in blood, clothes ripped and tattered, chest barely moving as he struggled to breathe.

"Sammy." Dean dropped to his knees beside his brother. "Sam, open your eyes. Keep awake, baby brother. We have to get out of here."

Sam's eyes fluttered open, widening slightly when they landed on his older brother. "D-Dean?" his voice was weak and shaky.

"Yeah, Sammy. Yeah, just hold on. I'm going to get you out of here, okay?"

A spark of fear in Sam's eyes had Dean worried. "Th-the h-hunters?"

Dean felt his heart tug painfully at that, as he began to realize just how scarred his little brother was from this. The fear was horribly clear in his voice and it told Dean more than his words ever could.

"They're distracted, Sam, they can't hurt you. I'm going to get you to safety, okay? On three."

Dean counted to two, then hauled his brother to his feet.

Sam was crumpling almost immediately, his body going limp as the pure agony of movement dropped him into unconsciousness.

Grimacing, Dean half carried, half-dragged his little brother away from the clearing.

He left the screams behind him.

Dean frowned, then sighed, realizing he couldn't just leave the wendigo.

Reluctantly, he propped Sam up against a tree, pulling out his flamethrower, then full blown running back to the clearing.

There wasn't anything left to save.

But there was a wendigo to kill.

It was bent over the remains of one of the hunters, (_make that part of several different hunters_, Dean noticed with a grimace).

Dean didn't hesitate, raising his flamethrower and letting loose.

The wendigo shrieked, but it was dead before it could move anywhere.

Dean didn't bother to glance at the hunters remains. Bobby could send someone down here to take care of it.

Dean had his own to take care of.

...

The pain of lugging his brother's limp body back to the car wasn't a physical one. His brother whimpered from pain even in his unconsciousness, though he didn't move at all.

Dean wondered if it was because he was too frightened.

_I wish I could have shot those hunters myself. _

Dean growled inarticulately, fury coursing through his veins once more.

It disappeared when he glanced at his brother, now lying down on the motel bed.

Dean had treated his wounds, stitched him up.

What he found bothered him more than he could ever articulate.

Sam had clearly been tortured.

Burns, electrical if Dean was going to guess, covered his body. Cuts and so many open cuts and gashes covered his body, from a whip Dean was sure. Sam was a mess, not an inch of skin untarnished by those filthy hunters.

Still.

Sam was alive.

He would live on and Dean was sure, _hoped_, that Sam wasn't scarred beyond what he could fix.

_This is so beyond a chick flick moment that I don't even care if he wants to hug or {shiver} talk. _Dean paused at that thought. _Forget that. I'm going to __**make**__ the kid talk. _

Dean brushed a hand over Sam's forehead, smiling softly when Sam turned into the touch slightly.

_It'll be okay, Sammy. You'll see._

...

Sam woke slowly.

Pain grew the more conscious he became and he wasn't even aware he had made a sound until he felt a coarse but gentle hand on his forehead.

"You're okay, Sammy. You're safe. Here, kiddo. Take this."

Sam was vaguely aware of Dean helping him take some pills, swallow some water that had Sam whimpering when it disappeared.

"Careful, kiddo. Don't want to make you sick. I promise I'll give you more soon."

Sam forced his eyes open, needing to see Dean, to check with his own eyes that he was really out of the nightmare.

Dean was watching him, leaning over him, brow creased with concern. "Sammy?"

Sam's eyes filled with tears. "Dean."

Dean instantly was moving forward, pulling Sam into his arms, gently but fiercely. Sam grabbed onto his brother's shirt as best he could, wrapping him in a hug of his own. Dean manuevered them till he was sitting on the bed, supporting Sam.

Sam buried his face in Dean's chest and sobbed.

It was over. It was really over.

"It's okay, Sammy. It's okay. You're safe. You're safe. I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you. I promise, you're safe. It's okay."


	7. Chapter 7

Hey all! Okay, so I've been looking over the poll results and here's what I'm thinking about doing. I've had an epic idea for Visions 8 (and maybe several more if people like it – its gonna be a freaking long series!). However, it's going to take me a bit to plan it all out and figure out a couple of details and complications. So, what I'm going to do is I'm going to finish Secrets 2, then I'm going to work on either cursed Stanford!Sam or Daddy!Sam. When I'm done with whichever I end up writing first, I'll work on the second. Or, if by that time I have Visions 8 (and so on) planned out and then that'll be next, followed by the other choices on the poll. Does this work for everyone? ;)

Enjoy the story and thanks for all the reviews! :)

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><p>Dean glanced back at his baby brother, lying asleep in the backseat.<p>

Sam was pale and getting him to the car the day before had been disheartening. Dean had ended up carrying his brother, because Sam could barely walk. He couldn't stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time, which frightened Dean.

Dean was so sick of being frightened.

Unable to rest, to sleep, himself, Dean had driven through the night and was headed home to Bobby's.

_Home. Nice to have a home. _

Bobby was going to meet them there, having no need to sit with John now that every thing was over.

Needing reassurance, Dean reached back over the seat and gently pressed two fingers to Sam's neck, so lightly that Sam didn't even stir, but hard enough that he could feel Sam's pulse.

_He's alive. We can work from there._

...

It was with relief that the Impala pulled into Bobby's driveway two hours later.

Dean opened the back door as he stuffed his keys into his pocket.

"Sammy. Hey, kiddo, we're here." he called softly.

Sam's eyes fluttered open and he looked sleepily up at his brother. He lifted his arms, meaning to put them around Dean's neck so he could be lifted and carried into the house.

A flash of a baby Sam lifting his arms whenever Dean came near, wanting, needing, and loving to be held by his older brother, flashed across Dean's eyes, so strong that he had to fight tears for a moment.

So much had changed.

Looking down at his baby brother, Dean had to admit that it wasn't all bad, though.

Pulling his sibling into his arms, Dean fought a smile when Sam rested his head on Dean's shoulder and promptly fell back asleep.

_Wow. Some things never change._

...

Sam slept through most of the next day.

He woke long enough to eat with Dean's help, but didn't wake for dinner at all.

Dean sat in front of the couch on the floor, one of Bobby's ancient books in his lap as he read about...well, he wasn't sure what he was reading about. It was mostly just something to give him an excuse to sit near Sam without looking like a guard dog.

Not like Bobby was fooled.

Sam wasn't even awake to appreciate Dean's effort at looking casual.

Dean glanced up as Bobby approached him.

"I'm gonna run some errands. I'll be back. It may take me a while, so don't worry if I'm not back by the time you fall asleep."

Dean nodded, returning to his "reading", but looking back up as Bobby chuckled.

"Dean, you do realize that book is written in Greek, right? I don't recall you _knowing_ how to read greek."

Not waiting for an answer, Bobby left the house, missing the dirty look and middle finger Dean threw him.

_In Greek huh? That explains a lot._

...

Bobby had been gone for five hours, picking things up to help another hunter buddy out, when his phone rang.

He flipped it out without looking at the caller ID first, assuming it would be his hunter friend with yet _another_ thing to be picked up.

It wasn't.

...

Dean gently sat Sam down on the porch swing, helping his brother situate and get comfortable.

Sam looked around, but didn't relax until Dean sat beside him and eased an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close.

"You can relax, Sammy. The hunters are dead and no one else can get to you here."

Sam curled into his older brother's warmth, enjoying the fresh air, but feeling a little tense at being outside. What ifs skidded around in his mind just about driving him to tears.

"I know. I just..." Sam didn't even understand why he felt so afraid, much less have the words to explain it to Dean.

"You're still afraid." Dean finished for him, softly.

Sam nodded. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I do, Dean. You expected me to stay strong, to resist them, and I...I _gave in_." Sam forced the words out on a sob. "I gave up. I failed you. I'm so sorry."

Dean pulled his little brother tighter up against him, resting his chin on Sam's head, possible only because Sam was so curled up beside him.

"Sammy. Sammy, you were tortured, kiddo. No one can resist that forever. But you didn't fail me, Sam. You stayed alive. You did what you had to to survive. You didn't fail me. I'm proud of you, Sammy, and nothing can change that."

Sam looked up at Dean, meeting his gaze. "You promise?"

Dean smiled softly. "I promise."

Sam relaxed once more against his older brother, feeling better than he had since before this mess all started.

...

Sam was half asleep when Dean's phone rang.

"Yeah, Bobby."

Dean tensed against him and Sam was looking up at him in concern a second later.

"You sure?"

Dean listened for a second, then sighed.

"Yeah, but don't expect me to be friendly."

Dean hung up.

A car suddenly pulled into a drive, barely visible in the soft evening light.

Dean stood, helping Sam keep his balance, before taking a step towards the railing. He glanced back at his baby brother, his face serious. "Don't you move from there, Sam, okay? Trust me."

Sam nodded, curling up as best he could on the swing, frightened by the clear tension and stress and anger in his brother's voice and form.

Bobby stepped out of his car and Sam froze as his dad stepped out of the other door.

"Dad?" Sam managed. A flashback to the gun, to his father's cold, hateful gaze had tears rolling down Sam's cheeks. He was glad his dad was alive, yet...he couldn't help the fear that built in his chest at the sight of the man who had almost killed him.

"Sammy." John took a step in his direction, but Dean's fierce glare and sharp, "Stop." had him halting in his tracks.

"You don't take one more step towards him." Dean growled.

"Dean, please. Give me a second chance. I'm sorry for what happened. I was just-" John struggled with the word. "I was just afraid, Dean."

Dean was livid.

"So you press a gun to Sam's head? Did that make you feel stronger? Make you feel like a man? You could know for sure that you were a better hunter than your kid? You make me sick, John, you know that?"

"Dean. Dean come on. Give me something here. I'm sorry for what I did."

"You're _sorry?_ That's rich. You want something? Fine, I got something for you. I'm not going to kill you. That's the _only_ thing you're going to get."

Dean was breathing hard, nostrils flared, whole stance quivering like he was trying desperately to restrain himself from simplying shooting their estranged father right there.

"You betrayed us, dad. You tried to hunt Sam and I don't even care what your excuse is. You lost all rights to be around him _and me_ when you pressed a gun to his head. Now get in your truck and _get out_."

John stood there in frozen silence for a moment, then walked over to the truck his ex-friend had had towed to his yard when they had heard he was in the hospital.

He glanced back only once before he roared away in the truck.

Everything was silent for a second, no one moving.

Until Sam's nearly silent sobs tore through the silence, reaching Dean's ears.

Dean spun around, horrified at the devastation he saw in his baby brother's face. With two quick steps, Dean was sitting on the bench, his brother held tight in his arms, whispering soothingly.

"It'll be okay, Sammy. I promise, it'll be okay."

Bobby stood, watching the two boys, sorrow clear in his expression to anyone who knew him well.

"W-we're never gonna be a family again, are we, Dean?"

Dean stiffened at his brother's softly spoken question. He could easily read the pain behind the words, the guilt that Sam misplaced on his own shoulders.

"We're a family right now, Sammy. You, me, and Bobby. Dad lost out on that chance, but we'll do just fine without him. When has anyone but me taken care of you, Sam?"

Sam looked up at his brother. "But whose gonna take care of you?"

Dean looked temporarily surprised at that question, as if the thought had never occurred to him.

"I will."

Bobby stood before, cap twisted in his hands, face as serious as they'd ever seen it.

"You boys have a home here, you idjits know that."

Sam offered Bobby a shaky smile, nodding, apparently pleased at the comforting assurance, and burying his face back in Dean's chest, Dean rocking them back and forth on the porch swing, offering the comfort that only a parent can give.

After a time, Dean could feel Sam going limp with exhaustion against him and made an executive decision: it was time for bed.

"Come on, Sammy."

Dean gently lifted his nearly unconscious sibling in his arms and walked inside, Bobby following. The older brother headed up the stairs to the room that the two boys shared, laying his sibling down on the bed and covering him up, deciding that Sam could sleep comfortably in the sweats that he had been helped into by Dean earlier.

...

It took hours for Dean to fall asleep. His father's words, his own words in return, floated through his head, broken up by the occasional sharp and painful image of John holding a gun to a trembling Sam's head.

He may not have been there, but he could picture it all too clearly. Heaven knew he'd seen his father hold a gun often enough, seen his brother trembling and in pain often enough, no matter how much he hated it and tried to prevent it.

It just seemed that the world had it out for his younger sibling.

Almost as if in response to Dean's thinking, minutes after he fell asleep, Sam began to toss and turn in his sleep.

...

_The gun suddenly pressed to his forehead pushed the pain completely from his mind._

_Sam looked up at his father, infinite pain in his eyes._

_"I didn't do anything wrong." Sam said softly. "Why are you doing this? W-we can still be a family, dad. Or...or if I disgust you that much, you don't have to hunt with us, but...but you don't have to do this. You don't have to end it like this."_

_The gun clicked as John cocked it._

_Sam could see the cold blankness of his face and felt his heart drop. **Dad...**_

_"Dad."_

_The gun was pressed even more harshly against his skin, painfully. Anger broke the blank mask on his father's face, anger and fear, and Sam felt tears well up in his eyes and spill over onto his cheeks._

_In his anguish, Sam said two words that he hadn't said in a long time._

_"Daddy, please."_

_This time the shot rang out and Sam only had seconds before his vision went black, horrfic pain shooting through his head._

_**He shot me. Oh gosh, he shot me.**_

_Sam's vision cleared and he was suddenly on his knees behind the van they had transported him in. _

_Sam started to stand, but he was pushed roughly back to the ground with a firm foot to the back._

_"I didn't say stand. I said go."_

_Sam couldn't help the glare up at them. "You want me to crawl?" _

_He received a sharp kick to the face for that, hitting the ground, covering his bleeding nose with both hands, letting out a small moan of unexpected pain._

_"Animals don't talk. Now, move."_

_**I'm not an animal. I'm not! I'm human, I have to still be human.**_

_Sam's vision darkened once more, then cleared again, to show him the warehouse he had been held in for a horrific eternity, his captors standing around him._

_"You will not be disrespectful and you will not talk!"_

_Sparks._

_Agony._

_Cries._

_Gasps._

_"You will not be disrespectful and you will not talk!"_

_Sparks._

_Pain._

_Sparks._

_Agony._

_Screams._

_Darkness. _

_Vision clearing once more, Sam was faced with the hours, unending, that he had suffered._

_**You will obey. **_

_A sharp snap, a yelp._

_**You will obey.** _

_A howl, blood. _

_**You will obey.**_

_So much blood. _

_**NO! DEAN! **_

...

Dean shot straight out of bed at the sudden scream from his baby brother.

Sam was writhing, jerking, in his bed, screaming. His cheeks were stained with tears, his eyes still closed.

_Dreaming. Oh gosh._

Dean was by his side in a second, scooping Sam into his lap, wrapping his arms around him.

"Sammy. Sam! Sammy! Wake up! It's a dream, kiddo! You're dreaming!"

Sam's eyes flew open, his whole body shaking, his face ghost white. His eyes roved wildly around the room, panicking when he didn't see his brother, but then the strong arms around him, the soft voice above him, registered and Sam relaxed against his brother.

Sobs broke from him, as he buried his face in Dean's chest, fisting his hands in Dean's nightshirt.

"It was just a dream, Sammy. It's over. Shh, you're okay. It's okay. It's all over."

A memory of baby Sam, crying for hours, unable to sleep, their father trying to study and learn about this new art of "hunting", Dean left to try to calm his baby brother...it flashed across Dean's mind, but with it came another memory.

The song their mom used to hum to him and that had worked for years to get Sammy to go to sleep.

Dean cleared his throat and began singing softly.

_Who says you can't go home  
>There's only one place they call me one of their own<br>Just a hometown boy, born a rolling stone, who says you can't go home  
>Who says you can't go back, been all around the world and as a matter of fact<br>There's only one place left I want to go, who says you can't go home  
>It's alright, it's alright, it's alright, it's alright, its alright<em>

Sam's sobs began to ease, quiet, and Dean knew that his baby brother was listening to him.

_I went as far as I could, I tried to find a new face  
>There isn't one of these lines that I would erase<br>I lived a million miles of memories on that road  
>With every step I take I know that I'm not alone<br>You take the home from the boy, but not the boy from his home  
>These are my streets, the only life I've ever known,<br>who says you can't go home _

Sam began to go limp against him, sleep overtaking him, a peaceful feeling of safety finally filling him, allowing him to go to sleep.

Dean continued anyway, some part of him wanting to make sure Sam stayed asleep, another part of him so lost in memories that he couldn't stop even if he wanted to.

_It doesn't matter where you are, it doesn't matter where you go  
>If it's a million miles aways or just a mile up the road<br>Take it in, take it with you when you go,  
>who says you can't go home <em>

Dean leaned his head back against the headboard, closing his own eyes against the tears that threatened to well up.

_We are home. _

The knowledge was comforting.

_It doesn't matter where we are, because home is and always will be each other. _

This was a truth that Dean felt in his very soul, something that thrummed within his veins in time to his heart, something that had nearly torn him apart over the last few days, something that would hold him together over the next few months as he put Sam back together. It was his motivation and purpose.

_Sammy is mine and I'm his. Call it irrationally codependent, call it crazy, call it stupid. _

_I don't care. _

_Because I love the kid._

_He's all I have and all I need._

Content in the knowledge that his whole world was tucked safely at his side, Dean fell asleep.


End file.
